


hiraeth

by Zip001



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-23 09:04:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11399406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zip001/pseuds/Zip001
Summary: a series of vignettes of jon's memories of home* first chapter was written for a kinkmeme (already published in ao3) and second chapter written for jonsa countdown day 3 - childhood (anticipate future chapters would include a gift for the jonsa gift exchange and hopefully a couple of submissions for jonsa-creative's summer season 7 challenge)





	1. first kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darth_invader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darth_invader/gifts), [grayglube](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayglube/gifts), [Amymel86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/gifts), [Tubbylita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tubbylita/gifts).



No - I am not crying because Theon beat and hurt me. The cut on the brow was shallow and only stung a little. It was Theon's hissed words every time he made a swing or evaded the blows - "you are just a bastard, you are a mistake, Ned regretted you..."

Never again, I won't let him get to me.

I hear soft patter of feet and see Sansa's blue eyes looking sad. She holds my hand and tells me in her soft voice, "I heard what Theon said; and he is wrong. He only said those things because he wouldn't have been able to defeat you. You are a Stark; and he is a fool. You are better than him. Everyone knows it."

And I try to stop crying, but can't.

She asked, "Does it hurt?"

She gently wipes my cut and then presses a quick peck on it.

When I looked up surprised, she explains, "When mother kisses my hurt, it makes my hurt go away."


	2. half brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> my head canon on why sansa calls jon her half brother

Ever since that day she found him crying, little Sansa took him under her wing. No one knew - it was their secret. She put her tiny finger on his lips and breathlessly whispered not to tell anyone and that was what made it even more special (although he knew and suspected that even she knew that it was better that no one found out, especially Lady Stark and Sansa’s septa who always looked at him as if she smelled something bad).

After Sansa’s lessons and his chores, they would meet up in the Old Keep, near the broken tower, for half an hour. Jon thought she was mothering him when she tsked and clicked her teeth at the new cuts and bruises he sported, admonishing him to be more careful. She would then tend to them, cleaning them gently with her embroidered hankerchief moistened with water. And it was true what she said before - her butterfly soft kiss on his scrapes always made him feel better.

Jon knew that Robb and especially Theon would tease and scoff at Sansa mothering him, but it felt good. He still yearned for the quick kisses and hugs that Lady Catelyn gave Robb and Sansa, that he knew were never for him. He was not her child, she made sure he never forget that, but in the Old Keep, he forgot. Sometimes he would close his eyes, pretending that it was his mother taking care of him. Other times he pretended she was his sweet lady wife when he saw Lady Catelyn fussing over Father. Jon knew that he was worst than craven to imagine that.

So that was why it hurt so badly when little Sansa corrected Theon and told him in the loudest and clearest voice that Jon was not a bastard - he was her half brother. His heart clenched as he saw Lady Catelyn looked approvingly at her minature likeness while Robb was sputtering with laughter, mimicking her hands on the hips stance.

At first, Jon did not want to meet her at their hiding place. She probably would not be even there. But then he went there anyways because he wanted to cry and did not want Robb or Theon or anyone to know.

When he finally got there, he heard her cry and immediately ran to her and held her.

“You did not come,” she blubbered, her blue eyes filled with tears.

Jon kissed her forehead and whispered that he would always come for her until she stopped crying.

“Why did you call me half brother?” he finally asked, wondering if this was something Lady Catelyn told her to say or something she overheard and innocently repeated.

“You’re my brother and my other half, just like Aemon the Dragonknight and his sister, Queen Naerys.”

_I will always come for you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by grayglube's so much more powerful "milk and blood".


	3. memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon remembers.

“I… remember…” he croaked.

Each word felt so heavy in his mouth. His tongue felt thick and numb, too big for his mouth.

“A wolf, you mentioned a wolf before, is that what you remembered, Mister Snow?”

He closed his eyes and grimaced. He shook his head.

“No, no, not Snow” he grated out. He angrily shook his head.

_That is not my name, not the name she called me. Not a Snow._

“Apologies, you want to be called Aemon, right?”

_I was her dragonknight, her protector. I always come for her, my queen, my sister, my love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am trying something different - not sure if it truly works. I tend to have tons of ideas, overly ambitious, and unfortunately not having the writing chops to successfully implement them!
> 
> There was an exchange I had with Mlle Karen regarding unreliable witness (in the context of the Unkiss). And I told her that for me, when I was in a traumatic situation (armed robbery), I remembered certain things initially (chalk lines outlining the perp and loudness of my heartbeat) and then other things came back to me later (sound of shots and yelling, my sister hissing for me to get down). Shards of memory, some I suppressed perhaps to protect myself. 
> 
> And this exchange inspired me to try this plot angle which allows me to switch back and forth between canon-like setting and modern au setting, allowing me some flexibility and wiggle room as I attempt to write fills for the prompts in the jonsa creative's summer season 7 challenge as well as draft something fluffy for a gift exchange.
> 
> This collection will be fragmented (just the way memories are) and hazy and a bit confusing (hopefully only at first) although they hopefully will be cohesive in the end.


	4. The Sweetest Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon recalls the sweetest thing.
> 
> Written for Jonsa-Creative's Summer 2017 Challenge, Day 1 - Food and Drink

“Code blue, code blue. Erratic heartbeat. Starting chest compressions and ventilation.”

“This is a twenty something male, found naked underneath a bank of snow. Unresponsive at the scene.”

So cold, it was so cold and dark. He felt numb.

“Should’ve been DOA - no heartbeat at scene. Why’s he restrained?”

“Partner was gonna call it when the dude just went ape-ship, screaming, kicking. My partner and me both had to hold him down.”

“What was he saying?”

“Gibberish, something about salsa or sienna.”

“Charging in three, one… two… three. Clear!”

Suddenly his whole body felt like it was on fire, from the inside out. So much pain radiating from his chest. Felt hands firmly pressing his chest rhythmically. Something was covering his mouth, something cold and smooth.

_No, no. The hands were not her tiny hands. No, no, let me go. I need to get back to her._

Something hard was pushed down his throat. He sputtered and gasped. Everything seemed to stop but for a beeping sound.

Beep, beep, beep.

His eyes flew open. He could not see, blinded by the light. So bright, so bright. Benjen said the snow could be so white that a man could be blinded, not knowing where the ground even was or where the white sky began.

But he was not outside.

A small light was shone in his face. He tried to turn away but round hands held his head immobile.

“Mister… do you know why you are here, how you got here? What was the last thing you remember?”

“Snow,” he croaked.

It snowed on her eleventh name’s day, actually started the night before, starting with a delicate sprinkle lightly dusting the trees that grew into a thick blizzard. Old Nan said that it was fitting for the only Stark child born during a Northern, albeit mild, winter, scoffing that the other Stark siblings were sweet summer children before ranting about 100 foot high snowbanks that buried entire villages and generations.

He remembered the hustle and bustle in Winterfell as a grand feast was planned for her day. Although Lady Catelyn thought it was not necessary as normally only their family and the Stark household celebrated the other name days of their large brood, Father insisted, wanting something special for his little princess. Normally Father deferred to his lady wife, but this time she acquiesced, with softness in her eyes.

There were rumors that she would soon be going South. Jon heard from the stableboys that the King and his royal family were coming in less than a fortnight, that their little princess would be a princess true, then later a queen. Queen Sansa. He called her that many times in the Old Keep, each time it hurt more and more, but he would never let her know.

Cook made all of her favorite dishes. Rabbits that Jory and he trapped that Cook braised and stuffed with wild herbs, barley, and stewed fruits. And of course, Sansa’s favorite lemoncakes, buttery, lemony cakes with swirls of tart sweet frosting. Cook made extras the night before as she suspected that the little princess and her best friend would pilfer a few, leaving crumbs on the little lady’s bed sheets the next morn like they did the last eleven years. Cook even decorated a few with the letter S, for they were the ones always missing the next day.

What Cook did not know was that there were sticky crumbs in his tiny bed that barely fit him now that he sprouted in the last few months, but still slightly shorter than his Queen. It always amazed him how Sansa would fit herself so snugly against his body so that they both fit in his bed. He could not tell exactly where his legs began or where hers ended. And she smelled so sweet, better than any of the winter roses he picked and wove into crowns for her. She always blushed a pretty pink and giggled when he told her that.

“Why aren’t you with Jeyne tonight?” he asked when he found her tucked in his bed.

Jon did not expect her here. Normally she would sneak in only during the heavy storms as Jeyne would not sleep with her then, complaining that she kicked and turned every time the winds howled. The blizzards also scared him - he imagined that the snow would completely engulf them, suffocating them to death, even though Old Nan scoffed at the storms, saying that they were merely flurries. He begun to look forward to them as Sansa would be there, holding him as they both fell asleep. Sansa always left before he woke up, but her sweet scent remained.

But there would be no large storm tonight. Father stared into the sky that morn and made that pronouncement. Father gravely nodded that there would be a fine storm for the feast the next day and that “Winter is coming.” Those were the House Stark words - he did not know then what they truly meant.

“Oh, you rather I leave?” Sansa quietly asked as she sat up. She looked nervous, unlike her haughty self, that he (and everyone even Arya) knew was just a facade - Sansa had the kindest and softest heart.

Shaking his head no, he sat next to her and held her close.

“No,” he whispered into her soft hair.

He never wanted her to leave. Sansa did not pull away but instead buried her face into his chest. She was upset.

“My fair Queen, w-what would your wish be tonight?” he tried to joke.

Jon was never the jokester - that would be Robb, their brother, who always had a smile and quick quip that made others smile. He was as different from Robb as their little sister Arya was from Sansa. Sun and Moon.

“Do you know what Old Nan said about wishes? If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.” Her voice was muffled as she did not lift up her face from his chest.

“And so I am a beggar now,” he exclaimed with feigned indignation. “Or are you calling me an animal? A horse may be too fine for the likes of me, perhaps a mule then?”

She finally looked up and smirked, “We know the title of Lord Stubborn as a Mule is already taken - it belongs to the Kraken.”

Jon looked away and blushed bright red, remembering the intimate scene they both saw at the Old Keep, their old meeting place until it was taken over by Lord Mule. Some serving girl was riding the Kraken. Luckily neither the girl who since left nor Theon saw them.

“Arya gave him one of her special surprises again,” Sansa blurted, trying to make her Jon smile.

They both stifled their laughter as Theon did deserve sheep dung in his mattress. They reclined back onto the bed with her lying atop him, her ear pressed against his heart while her hand lazily played with his long curly locks. Jon knew that she would be upset when he and the rest of the boys had to shorn their hair for the upcoming royal visit. They were orders of her lady mother - they needed to look presentable, not like wildlings. If he were honest, he would miss his locks too.

Finally, she whispered that she knew a secret, giggling as she did. It always made him smile to hear that crystalline giggle. As always, one delicate finger pressed against his lips, although he would never say a word.

“Shhhh,” she admonished as she pretended to tippy toed out of his room, but first comically pretended to look both ways. There was never anyone near his room, far away from the Stark family private quarters and the servant’s quarters.

She ran, and he followed, both bundled in furs and trying to contain their giggles. Tim was asleep again on duty, but luckily the Winterfell walls were tall and strong.

In the storeroom, Jon had to lift her up as Cook hid the covered precious lemoncakes up high, away from any rodents but not high enough from them! After Jon found a half empty bottle of sweet ice wine, they each took one apiece with Sansa swirling the icing on his so that there was a lopsided J on it. They could not eat it there - his Queen whispered that they tasted best in bed.

And she was right. They drank the wine and waited until the moon was at the highest point to take their first bites. Jon shared his lemoncake after she devoured hers and pouted when he pretended that he would not share.

He took the tiniest bites, savoring her happy sighs after each of her bites and giggling at the icing that graced her nose. When he finally pointed it to her, she pretended that she meant to do that, that the Queen is never anything less than poised and oh so dignified, before they both bursted into giggles which deepened into gales of laughter when he pretended to lick it off her nose. She daintily wiped it off with her handkerchief.

As the snow delicately fell outside, Jon watched her fall asleep, her red tipped lashes fluttered. The hush of the snowfall magnified her soft breathing and the nuzzling sounds she made whenever he moved to take a better look at his sweet Sansa with her pert nose still sporting a tiny bit of frosting. Jon looked at her lips - did they taste as sweet as her beloved lemoncakes? He hovered over her, wanting so badly to steal a kiss.

_Just one kiss._

Such a small thing it seemed until her eyes flew open in surprise. But instead of looking at him in disgust and backing away, she looked at him in wonder and smiled.

Whenever times were bleak, when he thought all was lost, Jon always came back to this memory, to her bright smile, to the love in her eyes.

_I would always come back for you._


End file.
